Liberation

Fumbling with the keys for a good ten minutes, he finally managed to unlock that old, creaky door and made a mental note to get that rusty lock changed first thing in the morning. He was back in this house after 20 years. Bittersweet memories of his childhood sprang up as he walked through the door into the large, lifeless living room.

Dropping his luggage onto the floor, he looked around the once crisp and colorful house. He had somehow managed to get it cleaned up with a help of few people but the house was still in dire need of restoration. Flashbacks from the past brought nostalgia but the bliss was cut short by the backache that always crept in whenever he would travel. He needed to rest so leaving everything there on the floor, he headed straight upstairs for his room. He was so drained that even the unusual cold in the mid summer season couldn’t stop him from falling asleep. 

DAY 1 – It was almost noon when he woke up. He had overslept yet he still felt tired. Pulling himself out of the bed, he started to unpack his stuff and got ready for the day. He had made a list of to-dos on the flight. There was so much to be done before resuming his duties at the new headquarters. But first, he needed coffee.
On his way downstairs, he paused for a few minutes in front of the family photo wall. Reminiscing about those times, he wiped off the dust from one of the photos with the hem of his sleeve and it was then he saw him. Not just in one or two but in every photograph of them – someone he didn’t recognize.

DAY 4 – His mind was still boggled from the photograph guy when he found two pieces of paper in his room. They were partially burnt with something scribbled on them which he couldn’t make sense of.
Exhausted from lack of sleep, that mysterious photo guy and now these burnt notes, he decided to step out for some fresh air and went to the nearby coffee shop. Just when he was about to take the first sip, he felt as if he was being watched. When he looked outside the window, he saw him standing on the other side of the road. For a moment he thought he was hallucinating but reality struck when he felt the man’s fixed gaze on him. He ran outside to get hold of him but he had vanished into thin air.

DAY 8 – Things were beginning to get more hazy as he had found two more similar notes in his bedroom after that night’s incident. 
He was woken up by the faint noise coming from above. Dismissing it as a rat or a bird, he went back to sleep. He would get the window fixed in the morning, he thought. It was then when he felt the footsteps – loud, clear footsteps of someone from above. He sat right up and was shocked to see dozens of paper shreds scattered in his room – all partially burnt, all containing words that weren’t making sense but hid a secret.

He shuddered as he stepped into the chilly attic. There was no fire, yet it smelled as if something was burning. Everything looked normal, even the broken window was closed. He took a round, peeked into the corners. The past few days had been so crazy that he was beginning to doubt his own mental state. Confused and dazed, he turned back to head downstairs when a partially charred photograph in a corner caught his attention. 

The photograph was of his dad standing in his laboratory but who was the person standing next to him and why was the photograph burned in half? With these questions in mind he started to look around and soon found an old tattered bag stuffed between other suitcases and bags. He was wondering why he didn’t see it before when he came to the attic earlier. He pulled it out and opened it.

Inside were cuttings of newspapers which had an obituary of some man named Marc Jacobs, a report about a laboratory that caught fire and some other burned papers that looked like a research project or something. The papers had turned yellow and were already in a bad shape. It seemed they were either set on fire or saved from burning. From whatever was left on them, he figured out that it was a research carried out by his dad and his team but what was the connection between the two?

Baffled, he continued to look into the items of the bag and then he found it – the other half of that photograph, also slightly burnt. To his amazement, this was the same man that was in his family photos and on his lab coat was his name – Marc Jacobs. The name struck and he instantly fished for the news cuttings.

The obituary said Marc Jacobs committed suicide as he was responsible for the fire that broke out in the lab. He suddenly remembered the time when his dad’s lab had caught fire and cost him his job and his research. It was all coming back to him but it still didn’t make sense. He was sitting there in the middle of it all when another charred note caught his eye. It was in his dad’s handwriting.

I was responsible for the fire that broke out in the laboratory. Marc was innocent. I should have stepped up when the inquiry was set but I didn’t. Marc was blamed and his research was confiscated. He asked for help but I was a coward. I didn’t help. He eventually committed suicide. I still see him everywhere. I know he will haunt me for the rest of my life but I don’t think I will ever have the courage to accept all of this. I took over his research and gave it my name. I know, I shouldn’t have.

Clutching the note in his hand, he immediately descended the stairs and to the wall where the photographs were hung. He stood there for a while and then headed out. He knew what had to be done now.

DAY 20 – “I’m sorry Dad but I had to do what was right and just”.

With that said, he stepped out of the cell and turned the key in the lock. Once home, he slumped into the couch and looked at the wall with the photographs.

Marc was not in the photographs anymore.